


Cramped Birdcages

by orphan_account



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, and I will deliver, look - Freeform, we both know you don't give a shit what i put here, you came here to read marco and ace fucking each other's brains out, you know what - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The Moby-Dick could be too small sometimes.'</p>
<p>Marco/Ace smut with no excuse plot to be seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cramped Birdcages

The Moby-Dick could be too small sometimes.

It wasn’t that the ship’s volume never sufficed, but rather that there was never much separation between crew members. Officers got private rooms and everyone else slept three or four to a room. Sadly, most of them hadn’t known about hormone cycles, or even hormones, before they became pirates, and realizing that people’s hormone cycles would sync up was right out.

But, as time went on, Marco started noticing that for a little while, maybe once every month or so, the nurses would start getting unusually friendly with Pops, and maybe he’d go shirtless like Ace, and a lot of the Division Commanders brought a friend or partner into their room. That was how things went on the Moby-Dick: everything was fun and games until hundreds of pirates got painfully horny, and then the whole ship smelled like sex and everyone remembered that Pops’ cock was, somehow, proportional to his body.

It was one of those nights. Marco couldn’t sleep, sweat sticking his back to his sheets, and sprang out of bed, painfully hard between his legs. His door was always ajar, as his room opened to the outside and occasionally Mother Sea would toss him a breeze. Tonight, breezes wouldn’t cut it. Marco didn’t like to give in to his animal instincts (the First Division gave him hell about that phrase, but he didn’t give a shit), but tonight he couldn’t deny them.

He peeled off his boxers, and when he bent over to pick them up from the floor he caught his own reflection. Never looked as old as he was, really, not with blue flames healing every microtear and wrinkle, but even aside from that, looking at himself with that damp, messy bedhead and that slick, sweaty debauchery face, yup, his dick was at attention and ready for action.

A little scrambling with the nightstand—Marco made his own light, blue flames catching a candle. It would burn for a few hours, and leave the wick undamaged. In the meantime, ghostly slivers of blue light turned him into a specter, suggestions of fire in the shadows and contours of his hunched over body. He found the lube in the nightstand, unscrewed the top (motherfucker, he thought with unusual intensity, why do they make screwtop lube? They know damn well it’s gonna be impossible to put back on.), and slathered some on his dick, which might as well have sighed from the feeling of “yes, god” rolling up his back like high tide.

He half sat back onto his bed, stroking with a wrist-flicking motion he’d been doing since the fateful day when Ace had just joined the crew and Pops sent him with Marco to take out some rookies, and Ace had just...he couldn’t even describe it, how it felt to watch someone leap through the air and put a pillar of fire through an entire ship and then turn to you with that open, freckled face and adjust his hat (those _goddamn_ triceps, anyone would swear he was doing it on purpose) and laugh like it was just another day in the park.

That day Marco had gone right to his room after reporting back to Pops and thought about the smile on his face, and the way the sun on his skin made you sure he was born that subtle brown instead of Marco’s olive, and how he’d landed in that weird wide-legged sumo crouch and his shorts had ridden down and without warning Marco realized that he kind of liked ass, and jacked off until he splattered the opposite wall.

But he digressed.

The door was open, so Marco wasn’t gonna do anything like moan the kid’s name, but all he had to do was remember the way he stretched and the hairs on his chest caught the sun and he was taking his breaths in stairstep gasps, which he choked on when his door creaked and Ace walked in.

Well. It’s not like he could see Ace, per se, but there was a gravity to him, like you were in the presence of someone who knows you and might love you but who might never learn to love themselves. Marco didn’t think about that, though, he just dropped his dick and his mouth and waited for Ace to react.

“Uh. Hey. That kinda reminds me,” Ace began, and Marco’s heart did a little half-step he was almost ashamed of. A small bead of sweat trickled down Marco’s butt and onto the sheets.

“I’m kind of having a moment,” said Marco, hyperaware of Ace’s eyes moving down his chest and to what Marco imagined (hoped) was the tip of his cock, and the tiny pink flash of tongue (Holy shit, Marco thought, did he just _lick his lips_ ).

“Yeah, I was thinking we should have a moment. Like, together. M’horny.” Marco took a moment to actually check Ace out, and his shorts were looking pretty uncomfortable what with containing what Marco was beginning to suspect would turn his good night into a great night. Sweaty, too, enough that Marco pondered a joke about not needing lube, and his hair was a dank mess and Marco’s balls did a very unclassy contraction. A small drop of something clear and hot fell on his stomach.

“Yes,” said Marco flatly. Ace didn’t even wait for further validation, just closed the door (and sealed their fates, Marco was sure, with two fire-based people in a small room having the kind of activity that burns calories his sheets would never be dry again), unbuttoned his shorts, dropped them, and burned his underwear in a staggering display of poor impulse control.

Ace met Marco in the middle, and there was an awkward moment of adjustment before any kind of kissing could get underway, when two kinda hard kinda spongy cocks pressed against their preferred targets with no regard for comfortable proximity. Ace was fast about it, just reaching down and pointing them both up and stepping in. Marco wasn’t surprised to find him a pretty adequate kisser for someone his age, since he was hot by every conceivable definition and his sexual orientation was something like “yeah, sure”.

Marco couldn’t help rocking his hips, enjoying the weird soft-scratchy friction of his cock on the hair that started at the base of Ace’s stomach and meandered up his abdominals, even though Ace was the physically stronger of the two and probably could have suplexed him. As it was, Ace was gripping him hard enough to bruise and kissing so passionately that Marco just knew he was getting that stomach wet and warm.

“Okay, I can’t,” said Ace, and Marco was speaking every phoneme of his horny, blissed out language and separated, watching a little string of liquid follow his cock from Ace’s stomach, and even though he had a feeling that Ace hadn’t been going for this next, he couldn’t help himself, leaning down and licking his way down, down, down that warm trail, not quite tasting like anything but deliciously perverted regardless (it was remarkably easy to tell Ace was gasping when Marco’s tongue was feeling his abs ripple with the motion). Marco reached Ace’s cock in a few seconds, and just inhaled the scent of it.

“Sorry, that’s weird,” Marco muttered, but Ace obviously did not give a shit, running a hand through Marco’s hair with a subtle push forward. He’d understood the obvious intent without Marco having to say anything, and Marco was eager to imply, grabbing the base and kissing the head. The other hand snaked down between his legs, giving himself the occasional lazy pump while he pulled back Ace’s foreskin and licked the tip.

“Hey,” Ace protested, and Marco, having no need to tease, took him in his mouth. Ace was thicker than most, but not any more than average length, so Marco went down to the point where his mouth hit his gripping hand and back up and off, running his head along the side and kissing the veins there. Ace’s cock dripped pre, looked twice as delicious slick with his spit, and so Marco went back for seconds, sniffing Ace’s pubes when his nose approached them. Marco was not naturally a man of promiscuous tastes, but he was giving in to instinct, and the pungency there was making him salivate.

Marco drew back again, and this time spit dripped from Ace like grease from a bratwurst. Marco decided he wanted to see what Ace looked like when he came, and started stroking his cock hard and fast, mouth open and eyes locked. Ace bit his lip like a teenager, tightened his fingers on Marco’s head.

“Not yet, not yet,” he muttered, and Marco didn’t stop, instead gave a little twist to his strokes. “I...want you in me, wait, not yet,” Ace gasped out finally, and Marco pulled back. It was one thing to hold on, and another entirely to save the best for last.

Ace was panting in place while Marco went for the lube, looking down at his swollen cock but not touching it for fear of coming on the spot. He followed when Marco beckoned, looking at the object of his lust’s cock shiny with lube, and bent over on orders. Marco, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked and marveled, glad to finally have that ass on display. He wasn’t an ass eater, though, never had been, and instead spread one of the cheeks (mostly muscle, Marco thought, but nice bounce) to lube up Ace’s hole. Dark, of course, but clean, which was enough for Marco. He pushed a finger in, then two, then three.

“Been practicing?” he asked, idly working his fingers in and out.

“Yeah,” Ace said, the stimulation not too much to overwhelm but enough to maintain his state of arousal. “You’re fucking hot, dude, everyone on this boat’s been practicing.” That was enough. Marco wiped off his hand so he’d be able to get a grip on Ace and the darker boy climbed in his lap, arms around Marco’s neck, and waited for Marco to get lined up. Marco’s never cared more about aim, and put his tip on Ace’s pucker. A few near misses, typical with so much lube flying around, and then he went in and oh. God.

His hands flew to Ace’s butt, giving it a squeeze with both, and started joining up with Ace’s bouncing, making a semi-coherent rhythm. Marco’d been around the block, but Ace was something else, warmer than warm, squeezing, whimpering in his ear and pulling himself in close, and Ace’s cock was still slick with Marco’s spit and making a large wet spot on his stomach. It was nasty, sweaty, perfect.

Marco fell back on the bed and Ace fell with him, rolling his hips and slamming himself back down into Marco’s groin. Marco’s hands went to Ace’s waist instead, but now there wasn’t much help he could give. Ace was riding him full throttle, and his cock was drooling all over Marco’s chest, begging for another suck. Marco knew he would get the chance, too, because he was already so close, after having his masturbation interrupted and sucking Ace off.

It was over all too soon, even though Marco was beginning to get the sensation of being pushed into a bed of seaweed with Ace’s downward movements, so soaked were the sheets with sweat. Marco held Ace down and spurted what felt like seven years of backed-up come into him, relaxing back into the moisture. Ace didn’t stop, and Marco was too blissed out to care until he softened up inside Ace enough that he slipped out anyway.

Ace moved back and put his feet back on the floor, and Marco slid off his bed and onto his knees, gripping Ace’s cock and going to suck it again. He’d been denied it once, but this time he was going for gold, making the kind of lewd noises he knew Ace would go wild for, taking him in, licking around the length, even going so far as to nuzzle it, getting his face even messier and streaked with spit. It was clear that Ace was close, and Marco slid the tip across his cheek and popped it into his open mouth, and it was over: Ace spilled what Marco felt had to be a pint of the stuff in his mouth, shooting spurt after spurt and relaxing fractionally with each. Marco looked for somewhere to spit, but Ace grabbed him by the armpits (both winced. Ace should not have closed the door) and kissed him, forcing his mouth open.

Marco, held there by Ace’s strength, felt a tongue scouring his mouth and assisted, giving Ace all the come he’d left there. Ace pulled away, white strings connected the pairs of lips, and swallowed, licking those too-full lips and grinning.

“You’re a kinky fucker,” said Marco, grinning.

“So they say,” Ace replied, face going blotchy with embarrassment. “I uh, should go shower.”

“Me, too, I look like I just tried to fight Pops on a Summer Island.” Ace’s grin turned wicked.

“Wanna have some fun getting clean?” Marco linked arms with him and opened the door, sighing as the cool breeze swirled in through the new opening and scoured the room, pushing them out with the smell of sex and putting out Marco’s candle. The grin on his face said it all.

“I like the way you think, Second Division Commander.” Arm in arm, they paid homage to Fairy Vearth and went to get clean.


End file.
